


Found

by lollercakes



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canada, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Gen, Missing Persons, Mounties (RCMP)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-23 04:31:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13779765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lollercakes/pseuds/lollercakes
Summary: Ruth "Rue" Harrows was only trying to get away from a life she didn't sign up for. When she goes missing, the local branch of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police is assigned the case and it takes a fresh partner to push overworked officer Peeta Mellark into action.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shannon17](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shannon17/gifts).



> Canada has a problem that we don't really like to talk about. The formalized government treatment of Indigenous/First Nations people is atrocious - from boil water advisories on reserves that have spanned decades to Residential Schools and the neglect of so many missing and murdered Indigenous women cases that it's spawned a national inquiry. We need to take action on these issues and stop pretending like our history hasn't left scars in vast populations of these communities. 
> 
> Though this story is fully a work of fiction, the Highway of Tears and the context of the characters is based on situations that northern BC communities must deal with every day. Some strides have been made in the past few years - including re-establishing bus lines and better connections between these areas - but more action is needed. It's estimated between 1,000-4,000 (which is a ridiculous range in itself) Indigenous women have gone missing since 1970 with little to no action by those responsible for giving these families the justice they deserve. 
> 
> I'm not an expert in these issues by any means, but if I can shine even a shaky half-light on this issue I'm going to try to do it. We need to take action. We need to stop these women from falling between the cracks. If you have interest, please read up on the MMIW inquiry and find a way you can make a difference. 
> 
> Special thanks to my two lovely betas - JennaGill and Metal-Jenny who gave feedback and consoling when I felt like I was about to lose my mind.

She just needed to get to Prince George. That’s all she needed. Get there and everything would be fine. She could start over, find a new life that would give her the chance to make something of herself. If she could just get out of this place and all of the miserable memories that followed her like a shadow she could be better. Could do better. 

 

At least that’s what she’d convinced herself of as she walked down the side of the highway with her thumb in the air. 

 

She purposely looked away from the signs that warned her of the dangers of hitchhiking. Purposely kept her head down and her bag on both her shoulders as the sun started to set on the cool autumn evening. She was going to get to Prince George if she had to die doing it. 

 

“Hey girl,” the man calls from ahead of her, his beige Camry pulled off to the side of the highway and his head hanging out the driver’s side window. “Heading east?” 

 

She swallows the fear down and nods slowly, measuring up the risk as she looks from the well-kept vehicle to the setting sun before her. She had hoped it would be a woman who would stop to pick her up. Or even a cop. She’d heard of the RCMP giving rides to hitchhikers now and had hoped that she’d be lucky enough to get picked up by one of them for the final leg of her journey.

 

But beggars can’t be choosers so she forces a smile to her lips as she approaches the car, ignoring the blare of a transport truck’s horn as it whips past them on the road. “Yes. I need to get to Prince George,” she replies and stops at the trunk, memorizing the license plate, just in case. 

 

“Cool, I’m heading there too,” he smiles broadly and he looks nice enough, his hair clean cut and his grey eyes clear. She was so used to seeing the haze of intoxication in people’s eyes that she doesn’t even blink when he first digs through the glove box before opening her door. 

 

“Thank you,” she mumbles as she slides into the passenger seat, reaching for the seatbelt and clipping it around her. She keeps her bag in her lap, nerves fraying as he reaches for the heat to turn it up a notch. 

 

“No problem. I’m Bill,” he offers her a hand to shake before navigating the car back onto the road. 

 

“Rue,” she replies, gaze focused out the window. She forces herself to relax as the time passes, accepting the bottle of water that he gives her without thinking. It’s only when she feels the drowsiness start to overtake her that she frowns and looks towards him, his smile sickeningly sweet. 

 

“Get some rest, Rue. We’ll be home soon.” He grins wolfishly towards her and runs his hand over forehead, her mind too tired to push him away. 

 

When she wakes up later, she knows everything has changed. 


	2. One

“Mellark, my office, now,” Abernathy commands as he blows by my desk, the breeze rustling papers as his coat knocks a file onto the floor. I have to stop myself and groan internally before picking up the discarded papers and setting them onto the mess that is my desktop, following him into the office at the end of the hall. 

 

I knew this meeting was coming - my last partner Finnick Odair had just abandoned me and accepted a position in the Major Crimes Unit, moving on to what he had proudly claimed to be ‘bigger and better things’. It was only a matter of time before I was destined to get slated with the newest member of the force, a punishment for fucking up the interview in my last case.

 

“Sit down,” Abernathy snaps as he flings his jacket over his chair, sitting down heavily with an audible exhale. 

 

“Yes sir,” I reply and sink into the uncomfortable plastic seat across the desk from him. I refuse to look away or show weakness - Haymitch Abernathy would feed on it - and I know that wouldn’t get me anywhere here. 

 

“I’ve got a new partner for you, Mellark. She’s fresh out of Depot but comes highly recommended by the folks out there.” Flipping through the folder on his desk, he pulls out a page and looks it over before staring me down. “You aren’t going to have any issues with a female partner, are you kid?” 

 

“No sir.” If I was being honest, I wasn’t sure if I would or not. I’d never had a female partner. Was there even a difference? Depot beat all the individuality out of you before releasing you out into the wild. She probably wouldn’t even look like a woman when they were done with her - at least, that’s what I’d found with most of the women in the ranks that I’d come into contact with over the years. Which weren’t many. Jesus, I needed to get out more. 

 

“Good. I’ve got her on the roster to come in this afternoon for a tour. Then she’s with you on the schedule. Any questions - ask someone else. Got it?” 

 

“Yes sir,” I respond briskly and stand up, excusing myself and heading back to my desk. 

 

I make a point to take a longer lunch than normal, knocking back a beer with the wing special I order at the bar down the street. I’ve never been much of a drinker, but I figure it would probably help to have at least something to calm my frayed nerves after another night of restless sleep. 

 

I was definitely getting tired of the nightmares that took over my body every time I closed my eyes now. They’d been coming on for months, vivid and relentless, ever since I was lucky enough to  consult on a case out in Victoria that had ended with the victim dead and the killer hanging from the rafters of his family garage. I’d taken to drinking on occasion since then, sometimes to forget, other times because I needed to feel outside of my body, if only temporarily. 

 

“Glad to see you’re still alive,” Johanna Mason greets me as I walk back into the station, her place at the front desk as regular as clockwork. 

 

“Yep. And still no progress on that case you wanted me to look in to,” I reply lazily, removing my hat and coat and tucking them under my arm. Glowering at him, she shakes her head and rubs at her eyes. 

 

“Do you even hear yourself sometimes, Mellark? How miserable you sound to be helping find missing people?” Her accusation rubs against me and I look at the floor, guilt and bitterness pulsing through my veins. 

 

“Look, Jo, I have a lot of shit on my plate right now. There’s so many cases open and half the team is gone with budget cuts - “ 

 

“Is that why you’re drinking your lunch?” She prods and steps until she’s toe-to-toe with me, her tiny frame surprisingly intimidating as it forces me to take a step back. 

 

“I had one drink. Don’t hold it over me like I’m an alcoholic or something,” I scoff and step around the desk and towards the bullpen.

 

“Have you forgotten we used to fuck? Because I’m pretty sure I remember you trying to drown out - “

 

“Jo,” I hold up my hand to cut her off, my gaze pleading. She’s like a dog with a bone, I’ll give her that. I just wish she’d leave our history out of this. Neither one of us had wanted anything when we were together, our nights were simply a convenient way to ease our own nightmares. But for her to hold it against me, like I’d wronged her, it was grating. “I’ll look at it tomorrow, okay?” I concede and press my fingers into my brows. 

 

“Good. Her name is Ruth Harrows. She went missing on the Highway of Tears a month ago, heading towards town. I’ll email you the details I’ve gotten from her family.” Nodding, I wait as she scribbles something onto a post-it before handing it to me, her fingers cold as she presses it into my hand. “I’ll be back in town on Friday. Have something for me, okay?” 

 

“I’ll try,” I sigh and head back into the fray, my gaze lowered as I try not to look at the empty desks that surround me. 

 

The team used to be comprised of sixteen members, all dedicated to working on open cases from the area that had to do with missing and suspected homicides. Now they were down to eight, cut in half by budget issues and plagued with poor statistics as the profile of the Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls inquiry was starting to take off. It was a bad time to be a member of the RCMP in this town and Johanna Mason knew it, took advantage of it, and pushed the limits on her role as the Victim’s Services liaison. 

 

That’s why we inevitably had a love/hate relationship… Or at least that’s what I had to tell myself. I was pretty sure on her side it was more of a ‘hate’ relationship. 

 

“Mellark,” Abernathy shouts, breaking into my thoughts and snapping my head up at the sound. I move hastily into his office, setting down my coat and freezing as I step into the room. He isn’t alone like I’d expected and I’m caught off guard by the girl before me, her thick black hair pulled back in a braid and her gray eyes staring right through me. 

 

When she stands it’s like the breath is knocked out of me, her arm extending as her expression remains neutral. I look between her and Abernathy, confusion apparent. 

 

“Katniss Everdeen,” she offers and I have to remember to close my mouth to stop from surely looking like a fish out of water. 

 

“Peeta Mellark. Are you here about a case?” I attempt, shaking her hand and trying to ignore the heat that flushes through me. 

 

“Um, not quite,” she turns to Abernathy with a frown on her lips, eyes averted. 

 

“No, kid. Everdeen here is your new partner.” 

 

Oh. _ Oh _ . 

 

Shit. 


	3. Two

“So, how long have you been in the force?” The words are awkward on my lips, canned and corny as I walk her through the lunch room. I hadn’t realized that Abernathy meant  _ I  _ was giving her the tour when he first talked about it, but I guess that was my fault for not asking more direct questions. 

 

“I started the process about two years ago but graduated from Depot in June. They’ve been kicking me around the country since then trying to figure out whether to put me near home or not,” she states evenly as I point out the supplies cabinet. Despite the mundane sights I’m showing her, she makes a play of faux-impressed and it gives me hope that we’ll make this partner situation work. 

 

“Is home around here then?” I pause at the water cooler and fill two cups, handing her one before leading her back to our desk stations. 

 

“Yeah, actually. I’m from just north of highway 16, about two hours west.” I try to force myself to not look her over then, instinct fighting against profiling as I realize she’s likely a reserve girl, her colouring fitting and - dammit. I press my knuckle into my forehead and close my eyes, shoving the assumptions away. “Your name has origins with Peter, but a variation I’m assuming is German. You’re from Ontario, aren’t you?” She sips at her water, her gaze running from my boots to the mess of hair on my head. 

 

“How did you know?” I counter and tilt my head, a flash of surprise lilting through me. 

 

“Same way you just figured out my ancestry. Look, if you’ve got issues with - “ 

 

“I don’t, really. Not on purpose at least. There’s a lot of shit though that’s just beaten into you over the years. I’m working on it, okay?” And god was it true. Ever since joining the RCMP I’d been working on unlearning all the nasty shit my family had spent years spewing about the Indigenous peoples of this country. I’d specifically taken postings across Canada since getting out of Depot so that I could actually meet the people my mother had spent so much time railing against. It had been eye opening, to say the least, but my brain still managed to make a fool out of me and my ignorance on a regular basis. 

 

“Mellark, I’m not here to file discrimination complaints on your Wonderbread white ass, okay? I’m here to use my connections in the area to help find people and I just need to know that my partner has my back. I don’t have time for the racial bullshit,” she huffs out a breath and looks around at the nearly empty office. “Sorry - I just, this comes up every fucking time.” 

 

I let her words sink in for a moment, understanding blooming within me as I realize the obvious fact that she was used to this treatment. It makes me take a step back, my gaze searching hers but finding only resiliency. 

 

“Don’t look at me like that,” she interrupts and pulls me back to the present. 

 

“Why don’t we just - maybe - start fresh. Where I’m not a dick and where you don’t have to explain yourself to me?” I offer and smile, secretly pleased when she returns it. Reaching out my hand towards her I take her cup and set it down. “ I’m Peeta Mellark, nice to meet you.” 

 

* * *

 

 

Friday rolls around quicker than expected, time flying as Everdeen and I go over the current cases and the backlog of reports that we need to file to get caught up. Though we’re getting along well - surprisingly well, if I was being honest - she still hesitates every time I get too close, her body shifting away from mine as though we were magnets naturally repelling each other. I remind myself not to take it personally, there were a million potential reasons why she was doing it, and she didn’t owe me any of them. 

 

But still. It was noticeable to me and I had a small hope that one day I’d be privy to knowing what makes her tick. 

 

Today wasn’t that day though. I couldn’t convince her to join me for lunch at the bar, some rule about being too cheap for take-out she said, so I’ve headed out and grabbed the wing special, delving into my lunch as sports recaps play across the TV. Walking back though I’m surprised to catch her exiting the sandwich shop across the street, her head down as she listen to whatever is playing on her headphones. 

 

Crossing the street I skip up beside her and walk stride-for-stride until she stops and looks up at me, the briefest flash of panic running across her face until recognition sets in. I tuck that observation away for later, my tongue held tightly between my teeth to keep from making a smart remark. 

 

“What are you doing?” She asks loudly, her music audible as she hastily pulls her earphones loose. 

 

“I thought you said you didn’t do take-out,” I tease before starting to walk again, the office within sight. 

 

“Oh,” she sighs and I can practically hear the gears turning in her head as she tries to come up with an excuse. 

 

“Don’t worry, Everdeen. I’m not mad or anything ridiculous, just trying to figure you out is all,” I offer and hold the door open for her to walk through. She mumbles a quick ‘thanks’ and pushes past the front desk completely ignoring the person who makes me pull up short with a groan. 

 

“Peet, how was your liquid lunch today?” Johanna greets bitterly, standing up straight as she watches Everdeen pass. 

 

“Jo, you have to stop - “ I grumble as Everdeen turns back from the bullpen to look at me, her eyes wide. 

 

“What? Worried that you’ll be held accountable for your behaviour for once?” Her words are like fire burning through me, my face heating with embarrassment. 

 

“Hi - I don’t think we’ve met, I’m Constable Everdeen, Mellark’s new partner,” Everdeen interjects, stepping back into the lobby and measuring Johanna up. 

 

“Pleased to meet you. Johanna Mason. I work in Victims Services and regularly harass this one about cases that I want him to focus on,” Johanna reaches out her hand to shake, her eyes skirting towards me quizzically. 

 

“Ah. Got it. Is there a specific one you want us to check out?” I say a small thank you to the gods as Johanna turns her attention fully towards Everdeen, my uselessness forgotten as she goes over the case details with her. I hadn’t expected her to step into the fray and definitely not to actually take this on so confidently, her quiet thoroughness apparent as she asks the questions I hadn’t had the chance to even think about yet. “I think I remember this one - my mother was telling me about it just after it happened. Can you give me a couple days? I’ll make some calls and see if there’s anything I can dig up?” 

 

“Definitely. I know Mellark has most of the file information already in his email. I’ve been on him for more than a week now so I’m glad you’re here to kick his ass into gear,” Johanna adds and I can’t help but notice her mood has increased tenfold since our first interaction. When she turns to look at me then a genuine smile - one I’d never seen on her before - has broken across her face and softened her perpetually hard edges. “I’ve got to head out - I promised a few folks I’d get them back up the highway safely before dark - but thanks for taking this on. Be less of a dick next time Mellark, maybe we can keep her around!” She laughs as she disappears through the doors, hand lifted in goodbye. 

 

I turn to Everdeen and shake my head, surprise evident as I look at her. “You are the Jo-Whisperer, I bow to you!” I bend at the hips, my hands splayed out before me. When she laughs the sound is light and free and it echoes around inside of me in a way that makes me pause. 

 

“She’s not unkind - she’s just willing to fight for what she believes. I admire that,” Everdeen responds before heading back into the bullpen. I follow behind her and sit heavily into my chair, tapping my password into the computer and swiveling towards her.

 

“Yeah, says you. She always comes at me with guns blazing. I can’t seem to get on her good side, ever,” I add and duck my head when she frowns at me. 

 

“Have you ever actually actioned one of her cases? That’s all she wants. She’s on our side, you know, she just - “ 

 

“I know, I know. You’re right. I think I just wish she could ask me nicely, every once in a while,” I counter quietly. 

 

“Mellark, she’s representing families who are missing their loved ones,” Everdeen says evenly, her head cocked slightly to the side. 

 

“I’m aware. Don’t get me wrong, I understand. But - “ 

 

“Peeta,” she interrupts me so softly, her hand reaching out to cover mine across the table in a move so out of character that I wonder if I’d somehow broken her in the last five minutes. “I get you’re overworked here - I can see that - but I need to know you still want to do this. There’s options if you want to take some time or address your drinking - “ 

 

“What?” I scowl at her as her accusation stabs through me. 

 

“Johanna mentioned you have a problem when she first saw you today, I thought maybe - “ she stutters over the words and I groan before leaning forward on the desk, my hand withdrawing from hers. 

 

“You thought wrong. It’s not what you think - Jo razzes me about this every time I see her. It’s not what you’re thinking,” I try to insist but her frown only deepens as she listens. “You’ve worked with me for what, a few days? And you really think you know me well enough to tell me I’m a drunk? Jesus,” I hiss and stand up from the desk, my chair spinning with the force of it. 

 

“You went to a bar for lunch today.” She sits up straighter, grey eyes burning into me. 

 

“They have good wings, Everdeen. Sure, I have a drink every once in a while, but I’m not Abernathy, I’m not getting shitfaced every night to forget my life. I can barely keep my head above water with all the cases we get. If anything I don’t focus on her cases because they’re the impossible ones. The families won’t talk to us, the members of the tribe shut us out and the media refuses to spend any attention on all the forgotten girls who aren’t white. To everyone outside this office these girls don’t exist - “ I’m seething as I step away from the desk, hands clenched at my side. “The outside world is of the opinion that you can’t have a missing person if they never existed in the first place.” 

 

There’s a silence around us as the few people left in the office hold their breath, Everdeen included. I know I’ve just made an ass of myself but I couldn’t have stopped the words if I’d tried. I was burnt out - not because of the cases we dealt with or the difficulties of solving them, but because the lack of empathy from everyone who could make a difference if they just fucking paid attention. I was exhausted from shouting into the void and nothing making a difference. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Everdeen says quietly after a moment of letting me stew in my own thoughts. I force myself to keep my mouth shut as I look back at her, the harsh lines coming so easily to me that I have to stuff them back down. She didn’t deserve my anger any more than Johanna did, they were just bystanders who had the ability to get under my skin. 

 

“Mellark, why don’t you go for a walk? Cool off a bit,” Abernathy suggests from where he leans against the door to his office, the look he gives me making it known that it’s not just a suggestion. 

 

“Yep. Going,” I grunt and grab my coat before heading back out onto the street. 

 

When I get back, Everdeen has already left for the day and I can’t quite figure out why it makes me feel like I’ve lost something I didn’t realize I’d had. 


	4. Three

I’m starting to think I’ve really fucked it up, sitting at my desk with Everdeen’s empty chair across from me. She hadn’t come in for our shift this morning and while the first hour I’d been willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, now I was pretty sure that she’d asked to be reassigned from my crazy ass. I couldn’t blame her, not really. She’d only been here for a few days and I’d already flown off the handle over something small. She probably figured I was bound to screw up her career if she stuck around. 

 

I was a mess. I had to figure my shit out or I was going to drown in it. 

 

Turning my attention back to the computer screen I looked over the email Johanna had sent for the Harrows case, determined to not be such a useless fool the next time she showed up in the lobby. It was literal blocks of paragraphs, some quotes but mostly referrals to people who she had talked to since taking it on her caseload. 

 

“Dammit, Jo,” I mutter as I finish my first skim through. The depth of work she’d already completed was substantial and I internally kicked myself for not looking at it sooner. Moving to the filing cabinet, I pulled out the folder with ‘Harrows, R.’ labelled across the tab and flipped through the summary notes that Constable Thomas had completed during the initial report. There wasn’t much, but it helped to get a layout of the case so I had at least a basic understanding of what had happened, which hadn’t been much that we know of. 

 

_ On September 29th, Ruth “Rue” Harrows left her family home to, according to community members, travel to Prince George. She was believed to be walking along highway 16 in an eastern direction before she was likely picked up by a driver along the way. No one has seen or heard from Rue since and her family has filed a missing persons report as they do not believe this is a runaway situation.  _

 

I read the short entry twice, surprised at how much information it lacked. At least, I was surprised at first, and then I remembered just how much Cato Thomas hated collecting missing persons reports for just another ‘reserve girl’. 

 

“ _ They’re always going missing. It’s like they can’t keep their own kin in check.” _ The memory of his words frustrated me, the thinly veiled racism more apparent now in the light of day. 

 

Shutting the paper with a snap, I turn back to the computer and pull up the casefile that kept the digital information that had already been collected. Confusion broke way to understanding when I checked the date stamps and found Everdeen had been accessing the files remotely late into the evening on Friday, far past the end of our shift. She must have gone home and kept working, the dedication making me rethink her potentially asking to be re-assigned. 

 

The phone on my desk breaks through my thoughts as it rings out, the screen lighting with a blocked number. “Mellark,” I answer gruffly, my attention still half focused on the casefile. 

 

“Hey - it’s Everdeen. Sorry, I know I’m not there. My car broke down an hour out of town and I need to get it towed,” she sighs into the line, her exasperation audible. 

 

“Oh, okay. Do you need a lift?” The offer is past my lips before I can even think it through, my head shaking with the realization that driving out to get her was a little too eager, even for me. 

 

“Really? I mean, yes, if you meant it - “ 

 

“Yeah, of course I do. Isn’t that what partners are for?” I counter lightly and close out of the files, getting up from my chair. “Where are you?”

 

* * *

I find her over an hour later, hiking towards town on the side of highway 16, a backpack on her back and her hair tucked up in her hat. Before swinging around to pick her up I watch her for a second in my rearview mirror, her hand waving off two cars that slow to pick her up. The reality of it makes my stomach turn, the fact that so many people use this as their main way to get up and down this highway strip and end up somewhere they’d never intended to go. 

 

Pulling over in front of her, I step out of the car and lean against the roof, eyes trained on her as she smiles slightly at me. “Why were you hiking? I told you I’d come get you,” I chastise as she opens the passenger door, joining me inside the vehicle as we both slam our doors. 

 

“The tow came quicker than expected. I didn’t want to just be standing on the side of the highway,” Everdeen mumbled as she tucked her pack at her feet. 

 

“But still. You know how dangerous it is out here. I watched two cars try to pick you up while I was waiting to turn around - “ 

 

“I know, okay? I’m quite familiar with the risks of hitchhiking, thank you very much. Besides, I’m pretty sure I’d fucking destroy anyone in hand to hand combat.” Her voice is tight when she looks at me then, eyes steeled. 

 

“True. I’m sure you’d do swimmingly with a 300 pound trucker,” I quip and shoot her a joking look, hoping to lighten the mood. I catch a flicker of a smile before she huffs and sits back in her seat, staring out the front window. “What were you doing out this way anyways?” 

 

A silence fills the car as I pull back into traffic and I hope that it won’t last for the duration of the long drive ahead of us. I thankfully only have to wait a few minutes before she’s digging through her bag and pulling out a stack of papers. 

 

“I went to visit Rue’s family and check in with my mom.” I watch as she shrugs out of the corner of my eye, her gaze intent as her hands flip through the pages in her lap. 

 

“You went without me? Do you know how dangerous that is?” The anxiety pools at the base of my spine and I’m half ready to pull the car over and turn this into a full blown dressing down. But I don’t. I keep my eyes ahead and wait for her to respond. 

 

“Yes. I figured it would be better if I went and tried to establish trust before bringing you out to meet them. People out here don’t like us much and I wanted to give them a chance to talk without them getting their guard up,” she answers steadily. 

 

I see her reasoning, I do, but the move was fucking risky and I didn’t want her thinking she had to go off on her own to start getting things done. Yeah, I was stressed, but I would have my partner’s back. That’s what partner’s were for. 

 

“Are you pissed at me?” Her voice is low and when I glance over at her with her eyes wide and her mouth tight I realize she can read my goddamn mind. 

 

“No. I just - I know I haven’t really set a good precedent for my behaviour so far but I’m your partner. You should tell me when you’re doing this shit so I can have your back. The last thing you - “

 

“Please don’t pretend like you give two fucks about me,” she interjects with a groan, her head rolling towards me. 

 

“I do, Everdeen. It’s my job to have your back. Just like it’s yours to have mine. Didn’t you just laud that over me yesterday? Tell me you get that, at least?” I keep my eyes trained on her for longer than I should, the road secondary in that moment. 

 

“I do.” 

 

“Good. Now tell me what you learned when you were out playing cowboy,” I break the tension and let the issue slide, hoping that she at least understood that I wasn’t trying to be an asshole. 

 

“Ha, ha,” she mocks before looking at the notes scribbled in her lap. “Well,  _ partner _ , I actually didn’t get that much out of them. They seemed pretty pissed that they even had to talk to me, annoyed that she didn’t just stay in the community when she left. They couldn’t give me a reason why, but I got a weird vibe from the place I’d like to look into with Children’s Aid before I talk to them more.” 

 

“Will I be invited along on that one?” I prod with a grin on my lips. 

 

“ _ Yes _ ,” she groans with a laugh, the change in mood sealed successfully. 

 

The rest of the drive back to the station is productive, Everdeen’s critical eye giving surprising insight on the details of the case that she’d devoured on Friday night. When we pull into the parking lot we already have a plan of action in place for our next steps, even down to who was going to collect the gas station footage from every place along the section of highway in question. 

 

We work late into the night, surpassing our shift end time without question as we plow through the video footage that comes in from the various businesses along the route. The pizza we order is cold by the time we remember to eat it, our distracted attention so focused that I’m surprised we even remember to eat at all. 

 

When I finally call it quits my eyes are bloodshot and sore, my head starting to ache mildly as I lean back in my chair and look across the desk. Everdeen is passed out cold, her head resting in her hand as she snores softly. I consider her for a moment, debating whether to wake her up or simply throw her jacket over her shoulders and head out. Then I remember that she has no car and would likely need to find a way home, a chance at getting a taxi out this late slim. 

 

“Everdeen,” I whisper across the desk, careful not to spook her. She doesn’t move so I reach across the desk and touch her arm, her body bolting out of her chair so fast that it topples onto the floor with a crash. 

 

“Fuck! Shit,” she coughs and looks around her quickly, arms outstretched as though to create a circle of protection. The look that crosses over her face makes my insides twist, the panic evolving into a careful mask in a way that I’d only seen a couple times - usually on victims. 

 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean - “ I start and pause when she interrupts. 

 

“It’s fine. I shouldn’t have been asleep. That’s my bad.” Her hand grabs her phone off the desk and when she sees the time she swears again, reaching for her coat. “We gotta be back here in like six hours, Mellark.” 

 

“I know. Do you need a lift home?” I make sure to keep my distance as I pull on my own coat, watching her for any signs of that look returning to her face. 

 

“Dammit,” she replies as though just remembering her car was in the shop. Looking up at me she nods and mutters a quick “Thanks” before following me out into the lot. 


	5. Four

I take the initiative the next day, pulling into her driveway early enough to catch her before she would logically start her seven kilometre hike into work. Hesitating with my hand on the send button, I calculate whether this is too chivalrous, too assumptive, to end up in her good books by offering to pick her up in the morning. Fuck it. I hit send and wait, my head leaning back against the headrest. 

 

It isn’t my phone buzzing in my lap that brings me back to the present but a knock on my window, a stern looking Everdeen looking through the glass.

 

“What are you doing here?” She asks plainly. I take in the running clothes she’s wearing and the way her hands are held up to her lips, steam rising from her. 

 

“I texted. Figured you’d need a lift to work,” I shrug and meet her gaze head on, challenging her to tell me to get lost. 

 

“Oh.” Is all she can muster, her body standing up fully and looking towards her door. “I guess, yeah. Since you’re here. You want some coffee?” She starts walking towards her front door without any further invitation and I have to scramble to get out of the car and catch up to her as she digs through her pockets for her keys. 

 

Inside the house I try not to let my surprise show at the sparse decorations and battered furniture that is scattered throughout the main level. Even though she’s only been here a short while, I still figured her to have a bit more of a homey feel to her place and not the bachelor pad vibe I was definitely getting as I sat heavily on a barstool. 

 

“Sorry - I know it’s not much. I’ve never really had to settle anywhere for very long,” she offers as she moves to her kitchen and pulls down two mugs. 

 

“I’m not judging,” I offer lightly as I accept the warm beverage and drop in two sugars. 

 

“It’s just - unless it sticks, I don’t want to get too comfortable and just have to move everything again, you know?” 

 

“Really, Everdeen, you don’t have to explain this to me. Go grab a shower, I’ll try not to measure just how sad this decorating is while you’re gone,” I kid and wave her off when she gives me an annoyed look over the edge of her cup. 

 

I take the opportunity to poke my head around her living room, hesitant to really snoop with the exception of looking at the pictures on her mantel, the small snapshots carefully framed and clearly held in regard. Inside every frame she stands at various ages, her smile broad in each photo until it suddenly stops, her expression turning haunting as the people next to her are mixed and matched. 

 

It isn’t my job to investigate her, but a small part of me tugs at the need to find the missing piece of Everdeen, the one that used to be there before it disappeared so clearly as she grew up. 

 

Tucking the observation away for later I step towards the back door and sip my coffee as I look out over the deck and the forest beyond it. The atmosphere is peaceful and secluded and I can easily see why she chose this place over some of the other ones closer to the center of town. Out here you didn’t owe anyone a thing, you could just exist and that was enough. 

 

From my interactions with her these last few days I’ve discovered two things that I know for sure about her: one, she doesn’t need words to communicate and two, she’s smarter than she lets on. The first one will be interesting to take on, at least until I figure out what each of the new expressions really means. The second will eventually overpower me, but I’m pretty sure I’ll be okay with that - our team needs someone with her brain to actually start making a difference.

 

Sipping again at my drink, I’m pulled from my thoughts by a drawn out meow, an ugly as sin cat prodding its way onto the deck and  pawing at the door, eyes locking onto me expectantly. Figuring it’s Everdeen’s - it wouldn’t belong to anyone else out this way - I slide the door open and let it in, watching as it tracks mud from the melting frost up onto the ratty old couch in the corner of her room. 

 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I mumble to the cat, setting down my mug and moving to lift him off of the marked furniture. 

 

“Why the hell did you let him in?” Everdeen calls from behind me, causing me to nearly jump out of my skin. 

 

Turning to face her I hold the cat to my chest and watch as she towel dries her hair, scowling at me. “He’s not yours?” I look between her and the cat, questioning. 

 

“No - I mean, not really. He was my sister’s,” she says and looks away abruptly. The move is just another piece of the puzzle that I want to figure out, my mind starting to spin as I hold the cat close. 

 

“Okay - well, I’m not going to try to unpack  _ that _ response until I’m at least finished my coffee. Should I put him back outside?” 

 

“Ye - No. He’s fine. Sorry. I’m almost ready,” she mumbles and disappears back down the hallway, leaving me perplexed and with this filthy cat tucked against my chest. 

 

“Cool, cool,” I mutter under my breath and set the cat down, downing the rest of my coffee in a gulp and rinsing out my cup in the sink. I stay in the kitchen until she’s ready to leave, checking my phone and reading through the news as though I’m not desperate to start tracking down every secret that makes Everdeen tick. 

 

* * *

 

When Johanna comes in near the end of the week I’m thankful that Everdeen and I have made progress on the Harrows case and finally have something to give her. But she doesn’t come to me to get it, instead targeting Everdeen and writing down any notes she can share with the family outside of what we’re unable to divulge. I try not to be jealous - I’d screwed up so much for her these past few months - but inside I feel empty when she doesn’t at least spare a glance for me. 

 

Or maybe I’m just not used to getting out unscathed and I’ve become a masochist when it comes to her. It’s probably a coin toss. Either way, I provide what I can in terms of the solid timeline we’ve built and take notes on areas she tells Everdeen she wants us to look into. 

 

“Thanks for this, Katniss,” Johanna stands up from her place in the waiting room chairs, looking between us with a smile that’s almost foreign to me. “And you too, I guess.” She nods and heads out the door leaving us to head to our desks. 

 

“Did you get the name of that study?” Everdeen asks as she hovers around her chair, restless from a morning of not moving from our computers. 

 

“The one with the trucker alert system? Yeah. It could be promising. I mean, if any of the commercial companies saw hitchhikers that day and reported it, we’d know when and where she was picked up. We could probably also contact the driver, see if he saw anything when he was driving that was remarkable,” I pause and flip through my notebook, frowning. “Jo says the RCMP is part of the study, but I’ve never heard of it. Have you?” 

 

Shaking her head, Everdeen flops back into her seat and chews on her thumb. “No, but that doesn’t mean much. It could be that we just missed a memo or they just didn’t think to inform the local branch.” 

 

“True. Either way, I’ll feed it up the chain and see if we get anything back. On another note, are you heading back to the reserve this weekend?” I didn’t want to prompt her, but I also didn’t want her heading back up there alone, even if she did think that she would be fine to do it herself. 

 

“I was going to. I meant to ask you yesterday if you think Abernathy would let us swing some overtime. It would be good to talk to the Tribal leaders and the community volunteer force, see if they have any information that they haven’t yet shared.” 

 

“Yeah, even if it’s not, I don’t mind going off payroll. I’ll get a hotel and since my car is clearly the more - “ 

 

“Don’t mock my car, Mellark,” she growls with a slight laugh, her smile creeping into her expression and making my cheeks flush. “And don’t worry about the hotel. We’ll crash at my mom’s, she lives just up the highway from Harrows’ community.” 

 

“I couldn’t impose like that,” I start and shake my head as she holds up her hand. 

 

“Then let me put it this way, there aren’t any hotels close enough out there to make it worth it. Plus if you’re self-funding this trip, you don’t want to be paying for all that gas and a hotel. Deal with it, Mellark, you’re going to have to put up with me for two whole days.” The way she says it and the spark that flares in my chest makes me think that maybe it won’t be a bad thing at all. 

 


	6. Five

“Hawthorne!” Everdeen calls from the passenger window, her arm waving at the man as he walks down the road. 

 

“Do you want me to stop?” I slow the car as we catch up and try to stuff down the pang of jealousy that pops in my chest. It was unacceptable and totally uncalled for - Everdeen has a life outside of the force, it’s only natural that the smile brightening her features would be for this man who was too good-looking, too tall, to not be the subject of someone’s pining. 

 

“Yeah, I’ll just get out and talk to him,” she responds and before the car is in park she’s opening the door and running up to catch up to this Hawthorne man. I watch from the car as he turns towards her and frowns, his gaze flickering between my car and Everdeen until she starts explaining in a rush of words that are inaudible to me. When she comes back to the car she slides in beside me with a tight smile on her face, a change in appearance that I hadn’t expected. “We’ll meet him at the community centre. He’s just finishing up his rounds and then he’ll check into the office.” 

 

Nodding, I pull away from the curb and follow her directions to the small building at the end of the road, the panelling worn and the roof looking rougher than should be legally possible. It’s not the first building we’ve seen looking like this and I’m quite sure it won’t be the last. The place had clearly seen better days, the homes older models and weathered, but thankfully still standing. 

 

“How do you know Hawthorne?” I prod as I catch her chewing her lip out of the corner of my eye. 

 

“Gale and I grew up together. He was at the academy with me but quit because our training coordinator was a dick. Came back to the province to see if he could start working with the communities directly and I guess that worked out for him. I haven’t actually seen him in ages,” she stares out the window at Hawthorne as he walks up the sidewalk towards us. 

 

“John Brutus, right?” I throw out the name of our training coordinator who was garbage at dealing with people who weren’t just like him - white, privileged and stupid. 

 

“Yep, he was a real treat, wasn’t he?” 

 

“Definitely. So what are you thinking for your approach here?” 

 

“Not sure. I figured we could just talk to him, see what’s being said in the community that maybe Jo didn’t pick up. Gale’s good at what he does, he has to have a feel for this place even though he’s an outsider.” Listening intently, I try to pick up the information that she’s leaving between the lines. There’s clearly a history here that she isn’t mentioning, one that could be important if she doesn’t let me in on it, but I tuck that away for later. For now, I follow her move as we climb out of the car and head into the building. 

 

Hawthorne is impressive up close, his height and dark and brooding appearance make him imposing as he steps into the room and gives me a once over before extending his hand towards me. 

 

“Peeta Mellark,” I offer, shaking his hand firmly in a subtle message of strength. 

 

“Gale Hawthorne. You work with Katniss?” I nod and step back to sit in the chair across the desk from him, forcing myself to be at ease. “Good. She needs a partner who will keep her in check - “ 

 

“She doesn’t need to be kept in check,” I counter and shift to look at Everdeen who has a scowl burned into her features. 

 

“That’s what I was looking for. I’ve known her for years, she’s a handful, but she’s best when she has room to breathe,” he spares a look towards her that practically sparks, his eyes focused on her until she squirms and grumbles something I don’t quite catch. “Okay, okay. So - you guys are finally here about Rue.” 

 

“Gale,” Everdeen sighs and rubs her forehead, glancing towards me as a warning to stay quiet. 

 

“What? She’s been missing for over a month and you’re just now actually coming to talk to us about it. It’s a fair point to be made,” Hawthorne keeps his gaze locked on me, his body leaning forward, elbows against the desk. I force myself not to move, my body still except for my tight breaths. 

 

“You know how it is. This isn’t your first rodeo. The important thing is we’re here now and we’re following up on actual leads that might be useful. We wanted to talk to you to see if you’ve heard anything else from the community members that maybe they hadn’t already told us or Johanna Mason - “ 

 

“You’re working with Jo?” I watch as Hawthorne sits up straighter, a tinge of red colouring his features. The reaction is not lost on either Everdeen or I, his behaviour so noticeably different that when I spare a glance at Everdeen she’s anxiously chewing on the inside of her cheek.

 

“Yes. She hounds us at the station. Everdeen has really taken to her,” I interject with a small smile, curious as to what Hawthorne knows that Jo hasn’t shared with me yet. 

 

“She’s a spitfire alright. Look, I don’t know if there’s much I can tell you that - “

 

“Gale, Jesus. You just gave us shit for not getting out here sooner, and now you’re not going to help us?” I watch as Everdeen leans forward in her seat and stares him down, a battle with unspoken history rearing its head. “Just open your filing cabinet, pull out the file I know you have in there, and let us do our job.” 

 

We wait with stalled breath as Hawthorne scowls at us, his hands locked across his chest while his eyes bounce from Everdeen to me and back again. It’s another moment before he groans and reaches for his keys, sliding his chair over to his filing cabinet and unlocking it. 

 

“You’ve got an hour and then I’m kicking you out,” he adds as he tosses the folder onto the desk and wags his finger at us. 

 

“Sure thing,” Everdeen sighs and stands to approach the pages, her hand drawing back as Hawthorne snaps his palm back over them quickly. 

 

“You find her, Katniss, okay? Don’t let her end up like Prim.” His words are sharp and cause a subtle shift in Everdeen’s shoulders, her face growing pale as she stares at her old friend who was currently pitching daggers at her. 

 

I keep my mouth shut as Hawthorne leaves the room, his hulking form leaving a shadow of gloom over the space that doesn’t break when Everdeen turns towards me with the file in hand. She motions towards the table tucked in the corner before dropping into a worn out folding chair, the plastic nearly collapsing under her featherweight frame. 

 

We pour through half of the paperwork before either of us dare to break the silence, the tension of Hawthorne’s words hanging over us until Everdeen can’t stand it anymore and she stands up with a burst of movement. “Wait here,” she hisses before disappearing through the door with a slam. 

 

Twenty minutes pass before she comes back to the office, her face flushed, hair askew and her eyes red-rimmed. I pop up from my chair before I even think of what I’m doing, my hand falling on her shoulder as I bend to meet her vacant stare. “What’s going on Katniss?” I ask quietly, abandoning her surname and all the distance that we’ve carefully built between us. When she doesn’t shrink away from my touch I break the rules and pull her into a hug, an old habit from my youth that always used to calm my brothers down after a round with my mother. 

 

“I’m sorry,” she grumbles as she pulls away, slipping back into the chair and hiding her face in her hands. 

 

“You don’t have to apologize, but I wouldn’t say no to a little background information so I didn’t stick my foot in it,” I force a short laugh as I try to break the mood and luck out when I see a hint of a smile flash across her features. 

 

“Prim was my younger sister. She went missing when I was seventeen. We looked for her for weeks before they found her dead of exposure along the side of the highway heading towards Prince Rupert. She was everything to me… Prim was the person who kept me going after our father died from his shitty diabetes, even after my mom shut down and checked out because of it. I did everything for her until our piece of shit stepfather forced me out of the house so I would stop pissing him off by existing. 

 

“I knew she was too smart to try to hitchhike but nobody believed me when I told them, they all thought she was trying to come visit me because I refused to come back to the reserve. But she wasn’t stupid. She had friends who could have taken her. There were other options she could have taken, ones that didn’t put her in a strangers car. I still don’t understand it. The only thing that’s ever made sense to me was that my stepfather did something to her and tried to cover it up, but nobody believes a grief-stricken dark-skinned girl.” 

 

Her words slap against my chest and leave me winded, my body slow to ease back into my chair to sit across from her. I let the silence draw out, certain that she has more to say in this moment of confidence. 

 

She doesn’t disappoint. 

 

“Gale and I were living off the reserve when we heard about it. I was enrolled in high school in Prince Rupert because I didn’t want to drop out even after all of the shit my stepfather put me through to get me gone. I almost gave up to try to find her, but Gale kept me in and made me finish, even when they found her body. It fucked me up for a long while and I was a wreck. Eventually I somehow managed to graduate, but I was barely a human and Gale and I were struggling to share an apartment, let alone a bed. 

 

“I left town at some point. Headed east and made it to the coast for a couple years before I figured out my shit. Tested for the RCMP on a whim when I was feeling particularly angry about them never finding my sister’s killer and somehow I made it through all the screening and into Depot before I realized Gale had the exact same idea but from the other coast.” 

 

I listen to every word, drawn into the expressions on her face that shift from an aching sadness to a determination that singes the air around us. When she pauses to look at Hawthorne’s desk, a harsh laugh escaping from her, I frown as she turns back to me. 

 

“He dropped out of Depot before we graduated so I gave him that shitty bell on his desk to remind him of the time he washed out, like those fools who ring the bell in  _ GI Jane _ . It was probably the last time we really saw eye-to-eye on things because we sure as hell never really worked after Prim. He burned too hot and I was too stubborn to make our friendship recover to what it once was, but we still talk every so often,” she pauses with a huff, her hands covering her mouth as she leans forward. “Look, I’m sorry to lay this all on you but you’re right, you should probably know what you’re dealing with when it comes to us. We’re a mess, but we’re historical, you know?” She shakes her head as she looks at me and the move is pure Everdeen, strength and humility and something else I can’t quite put my finger on that endears me nonetheless. 

 

“Yikes Everdeen,” I tease when she sits back in her chair, finally letting her shoulders relax. The look she returns is withering and makes me laugh, the heavy air lifting before I force myself to remember the question I’d wanted to ask her. “I hate to ask, but I take it your stepdad took his anger out on you? That’s why you don’t let people touch you?” I question slowly, watching her for any defensiveness. It never comes though, instead she nods and turns to look out the window and away from me. “Since we’re airing our dirtiest laundry, I guess I should share that my mom used to beat on me too. Broke a couple bones over the years until I got too big and spent most of my time outside the house. I’m not saying I know what you’re feeling, but I understand some of it. I appreciate you trusting me enough to tell me.” 

 

“Yeah, well, I guess that’s what you do with partners. Or at least what you’re supposed do. Maybe that’s why I never really worked well with anyone before. Nobody noticed what a mess I was,” she shrugs and it’s the most heartbreaking thing she could do. Without thinking I pull her hands in between mine, my thumbs pressing into her knuckles. 

 

“You’re not a mess. You’ve just got history. And it’s that history that’s going to help us find Rue,” I state solidly, my eyes burning into hers. She doesn’t break away from my touch or my gaze and the heat sparks between us, her tongue anxiously sliding across her lips and drawing my line of sight down briefly until I tear it away. “Anyways. This file,” I clear my throat and sit up abruptly, cutting the tension with a snap as my stomach flips.

 

“Did you find anything while I was out being a baby?” She sniffs and clears her throat, leaning back in her chair with a half-empty report I’ve already reviewed. 

 

“Yes, but I’ll only tell you if you promise to let up on yourself,” I scold lightly holding my notebook to my chest as I watch her shake her head and roll her eyes. 

 

“Fine. Fine. What did you find?” 

 

“Well, if Hawthorne had graduated Depot, I’d want him on our team.” Pausing, I lean forward in my seat and pull out the pages that were particularly useful, sliding them across the table to her. “Rue had a boyfriend, John Thresh, who saw her the day she went missing. He told Hawthorne that she was upset about her family… There’s notes here and here,” I run my hand down the page to where the handwritten scribbles are filling the borders of the page. “I can’t read what they say, but - “ 

 

“That’s Gale’s shorthand. It means he thinks the family is hiding something - he only uses shorthand when he’s trying to keep notes private. This one here - oh…” She sits up and turns the pages in the folder, running her finger along the edges. “Rue has run away before. There’s no file on it, but her brother told Gale she’s disappeared to Vancouver twice. Why wouldn’t they file a report for that?” Her words are more clearly directed to the paper than to me, attention trained on every detail she reads until she stops and jolts from her seat. The plastic falls with a snap onto the floor and she sets the pages down like a bomb. “We need to talk to Gale.” 

 

Gathering up the file, I follow her out into the hallway and down to the gym where Hawthorne is running on the treadmill. Katniss glances at me before edging through the doorway with her arms crossed over her chest.

 

“You think her family is involved in the drug trade?” She shouts above the hum of the machine. I watch as Hawthorne slows his pace until he can step on the edges of the machine, leaning on the railing. 

 

“I have no proof, but yeah,” he huffs out and looks between us. 

 

“Why do you think it’s them?” I ask before stepping further into the room, the pages clutched tightly in my hand. 

 

“Not everyone on the reserve is messed up in this stuff, Mellark,” he accuses and stands up straighter. Katniss groans and steps between us. 

 

“He isn’t saying that, Gale. Tell us what you know and maybe it will help.” 

 

“Fine. But this doesn’t leave this room - “

 

“You know we can’t promise that,” Katniss groans, her hand running over her brow.

 

“You can do your best then. If they find out I’m even speaking to you I’ll never get my credibility back and I’ll be useless,” he says and pauses, waiting for us to give in with brisk nods. “Rue has been a runner since she was a kid. Usually comes back within the week though. This time they filed a report because she didn’t come back - so the trail was already cold when they contacted us. That’s not unusual around here, but the way they went about it was. Her family keeps to themselves, leaves town a lot and when they come back the place has a spike in medical incidents, particularly. When they reported Rue gone they said she went missing the day before, but it was actually the week before and they just didn’t notice because they were gone. Why would they lie about something so critical?” He stepped off the machine and towered over Katniss, his gaze trained on her. 

 

“Because they were hiding where they’d been,” she whispers and I watch as she shifts on her feet, looking towards me as puzzlement crosses over her features.

 

“And this Thresh guy, he confirmed she went missing earlier?” I interject when the conversation stalls. 

 

“Yep. Even said he told her not to go but she claimed she needed to leave before her family got back. She was supposed to call him when she made it to the city but that never happened and he didn’t want to file the report and get involved with your lot,” Gale holds out his hand for the folder as he throws his towel over his shoulder. Clenching the papers tightly in my grasp I shake my head slightly. I can’t give these back to him, we have to keep them with our report. He has to understand that. 

 

“Can we talk to him?” Katniss asks before Hawthorne can reach again for the file. 

 

“He’s left. Haven’t seen him since he talked to me a couple weeks ago.” I groan inwardly as Hawthorne grabs the file in a moment of frustration, twisting it away from me. “Look, I want to help but I need to make sure the community doesn’t turn on me while I do it. They don’t take kindly to outsiders and if I’m going to help you guys I can’t be referring you to people I’ve already talked to. It won’t work. Do you understand me?” 

 

“Gale, we need to find Rue. Why don’t the people here want us to try?” Katniss glares as she says it, her thoughts echoing mine. 

 

“They don’t think you’ll make a difference and they don’t want to draw attention to themselves. If this community wants anything, it’s privacy to do what they’ve been doing for years - getting by the only way they know how,” he huffs before walking past us towards the door. 

 

“And they’ll sacrifice a young girl to do it?” I suck in a breath at her words, the anger barely contained under it. 

 

“It’s nothing this country hasn’t been doing to us for generations,” Hawthorne states lowly before slamming the door behind him. 

 

* * *

 

We’re practically silent on the drive to Katniss’ mother’s house, the tension that has surrounded us since leaving Hawthorne at the centre overwhelming in its immensity. He’d thrown down the gauntlet at our feet, his honest interpretation of history keeping me silent as we sorted through what we’d learned. 

 

Pulling into the driveway, I’m surprised at the little house before us. It’s painted a bright beige with a red door, standing out from the forest that surrounds it as the windows pour light out into the yard.

 

“It’s been a long day. Are you sure you want to do this?” I ask quietly. I’d offered to get us hotel rooms after we’d settled into the car, my mind turning with the case but also remembering the history Katniss had shared with me earlier. I’d thought maybe she wouldn’t want to revisit a place that haunted her still. 

 

“Yes. He’s not here anymore so I can handle it. Just don’t bring it up when you meet my mom, okay?” She waits for me to nod before stepping out of the car and into the brisk evening air. 

 

Together we wait on the stoop as she knocks on the door, bags in hand as a blonde woman opens the door with a subdued smile on her face. “Katniss,” she sighs, reaching out to pull her daughter into a quick half-hearted hug. I watch the exchange carefully, my heart in my throat as Katniss’ frame stiffens at the contact. 

 

“Mom. This is my partner, Peeta Mellark.” Nodding, I reach out my hand and shake firmly, following Katniss past the threshold and into the tiny living room. 

 

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Everdeen,” I offer as I pause, uncertainty coursing through me as I watch her face shift. 

 

“Oh, no, I’m not - I’m Clara Thread, Everdeen was - “ 

 

“He doesn’t need a backstory, Mom,” Katniss interrupts, her expression tight. 

 

“Yes. Of course. Let me show you to your room so you can rest before dinner,” Clara stutters at her daughter’s frustrated words, hands folding together as she beelines for the hallway and leaves me to stumble after her while Katniss heads in the opposite direction. I follow Clara to the end of the hallway, eyes drawn to the photos on the wall, before she swings open a door to a small room painted in blues and golds. “I’ll set the table for six o’clock. The bathroom is right next door.” 

 

I barely have a chance to thank her before she’s disappearing down the hallway again and leaving me to set my bag down beside the bed. Settling onto its edge, I look around the small space and see remnants of a child’s things packed away, boxes labelled with ‘P’ and shoved into the corners. My heart sinks when I realize whose room this must have been, the thought causing my chest to ache. 

 

The whole weekend was going to be an odyssey, I was sure now. The hidden details of Katniss’ past were spawning out before me and I was careful to observe them all, soaking in the information and trying as hard as I could to keep my foot out of my mouth. Each piece that connected in the puzzle that was her was bound to help us navigate our relationship - our  _ working _ relationship, I forced my mind to self-correct and paused to run my hand over my face. This was getting out of hand. 

 

Pushing myself up from the edge of the bed I pull a clean shirt from my bag and change into it before slipping into the bathroom to splash some water on my face. When dinner time rolls around I join Katniss and her mother at the kitchen table and spend an hour trying to catch Katniss’ eye over the chicken and potatoes that are set down before us. She doesn’t even spare me a glance, her light conversation with her mother carried on as though they were strangers observing the weather. 

 

I realize then that the disengagement is on both sides, the women at the table with me so far apart from one another that they don’t remember how to connect like the family that they are. The recognition reminds me of my own family dinners over the past few years - the awkward conversation and the hidden backhands packed in every sentence - and I sympathize for Katniss in this moment. No wonder she’d wanted me to stay here -  she probably wanted a buffer for this tension. 

 

“So, Clara - can I call you Clara?” I shift in my seat and lean back, smiling lightly to break the mood. I know I don’t want to use the name Thread - there was a reason Katniss was an Everdeen and not a Thread and I know he must have been her stepfather. 

 

“Sure - if I can call you Peter?” She counters before ducking her head to look at her plate. 

 

“Well - you can call me Peeta,” I chuckle at the common mistake and she follows my lead, smiling into her forkful of potatoes. “How long have you lived here?” 

 

“That’s an easy question,  _ Peeta _ . I moved here when I was 22 to start work at the clinic in the community,” she offers with her gaze locked on mine, Katniss watching us silently. 

 

“You’re not from around here?” 

 

“Was it my hair colour that gave it away?” Her tone is even but her eyes spark, just like her daughter’s. 

 

“I mean, I had a suspicion, but you never know - “ 

 

“Peeta,” Katniss hisses across the table, a frown twitching at the corner of her lips. 

 

“No - I don’t mean anything by it. Sorry. Investigative questioning is a hard habit to break,” I say with another laugh, my hands coming up to show a sign of peace between us. 

 

“It’s okay. Really. No - I came here for work and met Katniss’ father. He helped me find my place with the people here and it’s been my home ever since,” she adds with a shrug, looking towards Katniss with a fondness hidden beneath a layer of grief. 

 

“Do you have a favourite moment of Katniss growing up? Oh! Do you have embarrassing baby pictures we could look at?” I prod as I try to lighten the mood. Clara takes the bait and smiles broadly at me. 

 

“I think we have a few,” she whispers conspiratorially. 

 

The rest of the evening passes in a blur as we sit on the tight living room furniture, baby books on the table while we walk together down memory lane. When I see Prim’s picture pop from the page I can practically feel the air whoosh from Katniss’ lungs, her posture changing abruptly before she disappears into the kitchen. 

 

“She was my perfect angel,” Clara sighs as her finger slides across the image. I can hear the tears in the back of her throat, threatening to break free if she’s not careful. 

 

“She was beautiful,” I reply, waiting out the moment patiently. 

 

“Katniss doesn’t like to talk about Prim. That’s why she’s hiding out and doing the dishes. But I like to talk about her, it makes me feel closer to her, you know?” 

 

“I know.” I leave it at that as Clara closes the book and gets to her feet, heading back down the hallway to her bedroom. I too ease myself off the couch and find myself leaning against the doorway to the kitchen, watching as Katniss’ braid shifts against her back. Without seeing her face I can feel the quiet sadness that permeates the space, her hands scrubbing at a pan that is already spotless. “Katniss,” I prompt softly, watching as her shoulders sink from around her ears. 

 

I take the movement as a sign that it’s okay to approach her, my feet carrying me to the edge of the counter until our arms brush against each other. Lifting the drying towel I start working on the dishes silently, helping with the menial task as her breathing starts to steady and the tears on her cheeks start to dry. 

 

The evening has been a rollercoaster and I don’t understand how Katniss manages to do this on a regular basis, the ache of her history so prominent in this house that it’s inescapable. Her strength through it all - the silence and the steady way she holds herself in check - tell me of the self-control that she clings to in all aspects of her life, especially in her family home where she should be able to escape the outside world. 

 

I can’t help but wonder then as I finish up the cutlery if she ever takes a moment for herself, if she ever let’s herself laugh or feel joy at the world around her without this hanging over her head. Placing the last of the dishes away I turn to her and lean against the counter, eyes trained on the way her brow has furrowed while she sits at the kitchen table. 

 

“Do you want to go for a run?” I ask after a moment, arms crossed over my chest. 

 

“God yes,” she whispers before sliding her eyes up to mine, her body getting slowly to its feet. 

 

We retreat to our rooms to change and when we finally set off the air outside is crisp enough to sting our lungs. But we revel in it, keeping pace and heading down the dark and empty roads that only Katniss recognizes. Coming up on five kilometres I call for a break, my hands on my hips as I struggle for air. Staring up at the sky, I manage to only slightly regret my weeks of relative inactivity these past few months. 

 

“Thank you for getting me out here,” Katniss says as her breathing starts to return to normal much quicker than mine. 

 

“No problem,” I huff and look over at her with a grimace. “I figured you needed a break. How do you come back here?” The words are out before I can think them through, their honest capture of the evening’s mood like a slap. 

 

“It’s - “ she spins away from me and walks to the edge of the road, staring into the forest before turning back to me. “It isn’t always like this. We never really talk about it. I think it’s different this weekend because you’re in her room… And the name thing. I should have told you about that I guess - “

 

“No, don’t. It’s fine. I just… “ I let the sentence trail off as I watch her eyes in the low light, their expressiveness sheltered by the darkness even when I take a step closer to her, my body drawn to hers like an instinct. 

 

“Are you ready to head home?” She asks and breaks the moment, hands coming to her lips so she can blow warm air on them. 

 

“No. I mean, I think I might die. But yes,” I laugh and follow as she leads the way once again. 


	7. Six

Abernathy lets us take a day off when we get back to town, turning down our overtime but giving us what he can. The break helps and when I get back to the office on Tuesday I’m ready to delve into all the information that we’ve collected over the weekend. I’m not surprised to find Katniss already at her desk, her gaze focused on her computer and a set of glasses on her face. 

 

“When did you get those?” I ask as I sink down before her, watching as she jumps in her seat. 

 

“Sorry - I’ve been here for a few hours. I wear them when my eyes get tired,” she replies as a flush creeps up her cheeks and she looks at me over the top of the frames, endearing in her embarrassment. 

 

“Hours?” I avoid giving her the compliment that’s on the tip of my tongue, certain that maybe that isn’t the best thing for a partner to do. 

 

“Yeah - I couldn’t sleep so I came in to start going through the data from that study Jo mentioned. I’m reviewing two dates - the one Thresh gave Gale and the one the family reported. I’m not seeing any results for the family date, but there are a few hits for Thresh’s. Do you want the details?” 

 

“Definitely. I can start running the info if you can keep reviewing?” I offer and smile when I see her email in my inbox timed to five minutes ago. 

 

The next few hours fly by as I start pulling reports on each of the vehicles that reported a hit during the day in question. There aren’t many, but each of the reports comes back with mostly partial plates, the results from that list growing exponentially. 

 

When we break for lunch Katniss surprises me by coming to the bar down the street with me, even joining in on the wing special. The conversation flows easier here than it did over the weekend, the mood lighter now that we’re back home and away from the memories up the highway. She even flashes me a bright grin when I pay for our lunches, her hand lifting the last of her beer to her lips. 

 

“Thanks for this, Peeta,” she adds as we head back down the street towards the station. 

 

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s just hope - Jo!” I stop mid-sentence as she barrels out of the station, her head ducked low until she nearly runs into us. 

 

“Mellark,” she acknowledges before skirting around us and heading down the street without another word. 

 

“Johanna,” Katniss calls out after her, shooting me a look that tells me not to follow as she chases her down. I head inside to my desk and try to focus on the reports I’ve run, my foot tapping anxiously as I wait for Katniss to come back. 

 

“What’s going on?” I shoot up from my chair as Katniss comes around the desks. She tilts her head to the conference room at the end of the hall and I close the door behind us. 

 

“Apparently Rue’s family is not pleased with Johanna or Thresh. They’ve told the agency not to send her back to their land, that she isn’t welcome there anymore,” she explains as she paces the small space. 

 

“Did Gale tell them about what he told us?” I have to ask and know the answer as soon as Katniss shoots me a strained look. 

 

“He wouldn’t. I think they saw us when we were on the reserve - or somebody did and told them that we were there. Maybe they found out Gale was talking to Thresh… Either way, Johanna came to tell us we shouldn’t go back there or there will be consequences.” 

 

I let the information settle around us, the reality of it itching at me like a burr in the saddle. It doesn’t sit right with me, but then again, this whole case was starting to get under my skin in a way that hadn’t happened since Victoria. 

 

“It must mean we’re onto something,” I state and Katniss nods as she chews on her thumb. “Let’s get back to work then.”

 

* * *

 

It’s almost two weeks before the study results give us anything useful, the narrowing down of the plates coming up fruitless until we rethink the plan and reach out to the driver’s who reported the instances of hitchhikers. 

 

That is the break that we catch and has Katniss jumping out of her chair as we use the speakerphone to connect with Driver 652. 

 

“Look, I reported the hitchhiker ‘cause I had to - I don’t want any trouble.” The man mumbles it into the line as I look across the table. 

 

“Yes, we know. We appreciate you taking our call. We’re actually following up on a specific case about a girl who disappeared that you may have reported. When you made the reports for that day, do you remember if you saw what type of cars may have interacted with the people who were hitchhiking?” Katniss asks calmly, concentrating on her notes.

 

“I mean, yeah, I actually honked at one situation because it was this young girl getting in a car with this guy who was by himself. Tried to warn her, but I don’t think she listened.”

 

“Do you remember what the girl looked like?” I interject, ready to cross-compare his account with what we had. 

 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but from up on the rig they all look the same,” he replies and I don’t miss the way he tries to shuffle off the question. 

 

“Okay but do you remember what type of car it was? What it looked like?” I try again and watch as Katniss closes her eyes hopefully. The driver doesn’t disappoint.

 

“Yeah, sure do. It was a beige Camry, nice looking one too. The guy inside was definitely white, if that helps. Looked to be a young guy.” This is when Katniss bolts from her chair, arms stretched above her head as she watches while I let the driver go. 

 

“Everything about what he said matches,” Katniss says excitedly after I hang-up the line, coming over to stand in front of me with her face alight. 

 

“Right? And I know there’s a couple Camry’s on those refined plate lists,” I confer and rest my hands on her shoulders. “I can feel it - we’re going to find her.” My arms are pulling her into my chest and a tight hug before I even realize it, her arms wrapping back around me without hesitation. 

 

After a moment of recognition we do finally pull away, smiling foolishly as we head back to our desks. We order dinner and work through the night, narrowing down the lists and going over the owner’s profiles until we can’t see anymore. Even then, we don’t head home and instead slip into the quiet room tucked in the back of the station.

 

The next day we charge back into the case until we’ve narrowed it down to four suspects, the men all young and owning beige Camry’s in the province with similar plates. I feel good - better than good - as we head in to brief Abernathy on our next steps. 

 

“You’re telling me you want to drive across the province to interview these people?” Abernathy groans as he sets down the paper, looking across his desk at us. 

 

“Yes. It’s not like we can call all their workplaces before we meet them - she was picked up on a Sunday and these guys all have 9-5 jobs so it’s unlikely he missed work. Plus, if we call ahead and it’s one of them, they’ll know we’re coming,” Katniss looks between us, her reasoning solid as her gaze lands on me. 

 

“Fine. But try to keep the expenses low?” Abernathy concedes after another moment. “And fucking find this guy.” 


	8. Seven

We leave town the next day, heading first westward on highway 16 to start our trip in Prince Rupert where the first suspect lives - a man by the name of Tom Reeves. The car ride goes by in a blur of time, the road stretching out before us until day turns to night and we’re having to find our way in the dark to the budget hotel we’ve managed to book. 

 

The room we’ve got is on the main level and has two double beds - Katniss insisted we share to cut corners on the budget like Abernathy had requested. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but as I stood here watching while she sat herself onto the ratty mattress I had to force myself to suck back some air before my brain fritzed out. 

 

I don’t know when it had happened, but she had snuck up on me. Elbowed her way into my dreams and crept up on my waking thoughts until even just sitting here in the same room with her made my pulse race in an embarrassing way. 

 

“Still okay with this?” She asks, breaking me from my thoughts of her. 

 

“Yeah - sorry. It was a long drive, I’m exhausted,” I try to cover but her telling smile gives away more than I want to think about so I hide myself away in the bathroom to shower and change until I can figure out how I’m going to get through this next week sharing a room with her. 

 

* * *

 

Tom is a dead end. Plain and simple. 

 

We barely spend an hour with the guy before we realize he’s a family man who rarely leaves Prince Rupert, especially on church days of rest. Plus his family can vouch for him - it was his son’s birthday party the day Rue went missing and they were having a family get-together. He couldn’t have escaped for the time he would have needed, not by a long shot. 

 

No. We needed to move on to the next stop which was almost a day away in Bella Bella where we would find a man named Robert Yorgenson. 

 

The drive isn’t long, despite the distance we cover - instead it’s the ferry ride and being stuck on the boat as it spreads out our nearly fourteen hour trip. Thankfully, Katniss at my side helps me pass the time with endless games of cards and eye-spy as we coast along the shoreline. 

 

When we finally do arrive in Bella Bella, we head straight for the hotel and collapse into our beds without any prompting, exhaustion quickly coming over us after a day spent in transit. 

 

The morning alarm comes too early and we’re slow to move, my eyes heavy as I watch Katniss roll over towards me in her bed, her gaze blinking as it runs up the length of my body until she catches me looking at her, cheeks flushing hot. 

 

“Sorry,” she laughs and sits up to stretch, her loose uniform shirt rankled as it lifts above her beltline. I try to look away but can’t and soon I have to roll onto my stomach until my body’s morning glory calms itself. 

 

Our meeting with Yorgenson is longer than Tom’s, but not by much. He takes shifts on the ferry docks outside of his regular job and a quick call after the interview confirms with his boss that he was on shift and accounted for the day Rue went missing. 

 

Frustration starts to creep in as we return to our hotel, my mood souring as the lack of sleep and the failed interviews starts to get to me. Later tonight we’ll catch another ferry towards Bella Coola and then drive onward to Kamloops, but for now all I want to do is take a nap. 

 

“Want me to go get us some dinner while you sleep?” Katniss asks as she watches me fall onto the mattress, a groan escaping my chest as I curl into the pathetic excuse for a pillow. 

 

“Aren’t you tired?” I muffle, thinking back on the fact that we both only managed maybe ten hours of sleep since we left Prince George. 

 

“I don’t sleep much usually,” she offers, crouching down by the bedside and pulling the blanket over my shoulder to tuck me in. 

 

“Then yes. Sacrifice yourself to get us some food. I’ll eat anything. Just give me an hour and I’ll be human again, okay?” She laughs and her hand lingers on my shoulder before running into my hair. I snap my eyes open to meet hers and she freezes, slow to slip her fingers around the curve of my ear and onto the mattress between us. 

 

“I’ll be back,” she whispers and pulls away before I can utter a thing, my body sparking at her contact. 

 

The hotel door closing has me rolling onto my back and huffing out a breath, my pants uncomfortably tight until I release the belt and zipper before relieving myself in a frantic rush. Guilt slides through me after I toss the tissue in the bin and look over at the bed that she slept in, the sheets askew and the pillow still mimicking the press of her head. I stare at it until the feeling goes away and I have to tell myself that nothing can happen between us - we’re partners, this isn’t what partners do. We have a job to do and this would only make a mess of things. 

 

A foolish, stupid mess of things. 

 

It’s easy to realize then that I’m so clearly  _ fucked _ . 

 

* * *

 

“You have to admit, this is a really pretty way to spend the work week,” Katniss says as we hang over the banister of the ferry’s deck, watching as the mountainous scenery passes us by. 

 

“Yeah.” Is all I can manage as I watch her smile out of the corner of my eyes, the beauty of the trip, and my company,  definitely not lost on me. 

 

“Do you think we’re going to find her?” She asks after a while as the sun starts to set in the distance. We’re nearly in Bella Coola and it’s about time to get in the car and start our marathon drive to Kamloops where Chris Marvel lives. 

 

“At this point, I’m not sure. I mean, finding the person who picked her up, it doesn’t prove that they did anything malicious,” I admit quietly as we head back to my car. 

 

“You think maybe she ran?” Her voice sounds broken and when I slide into the seat beside her I catch the way her face is tight, as though she’s just realizing that Rue running was a real possibility. 

 

“I mean, you ran, didn’t you?” I don’t mean it to come off harshly but when she looks out the window I can practically feel the hurt radiating off of her as the silence stretches. 

 

We don’t talk much as I steer the car off the ferry and onto the long stretch of highway before us. Though Kamloops is our destination, we stop somewhere about three hours off the ferry at a small cabin motel that beckons us as the clock twitches past midnight. 

 

“I’m sorry sir, we only have king suites left tonight.” The man at the desk apologizes, looking between us with a small smile. I glance over at Katniss who shrugs, her arms wrapped tight around her waist. 

 

“Yeah, okay. Any cots?” When he shakes his head I swear under my breath and put down my credit card, running through the options in my head.

 

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” I offer as we pour into the bedroom, the large windows spanning the whole expanse of the eastern wall that’s filled with the dark sky outside. 

 

“Don’t be ridiculous, it’s a king size bed. There’s room enough for like fifteen feet of space between us,” Katniss says on a sigh, dropping her bag in a chair near the window. 

 

“Are you sure? I don’t mind,” I try again and while I know I should definitely sleep on the floor, a part of me is also desperate to  _ not _ . Her returning look burns my skin until it’s my turn for the blush to creep up my neck and ruddy my cheeks. 

 

“I’m going to shower. I’m gross,” she laughs as she says it before closing the door between us. I strip down and pull on my sleep pants, turning to stare out the window as I hear the blast of the water turn on behind me. My body is on fire at the thought of sharing the bed, disregarding everything that I should be thinking about like the missing girl we’re out here to find. 

 

A small part of me, the bit that claws its way out from all the shit and nightmares in my life, is convinced that we won’t find her, that she’s already gone. But the hopeful part, the one that drags me out of my benders and brings me to work every day, wants desperately for that not the be true. 

 

Turning away from the window I cross to the cupboard and pull out the spare pillows, tossing them onto the mattress and returning to line them down the middle like a grade school kid sharing his bed for the first time. I’m almost done my masterpiece when Katniss opens the bathroom door in only her shirt, bolting across the room to grab her bag before stopping and laughing at my creation.

 

“Are you kidding me right now Mellark?” She scoffs, pausing in the doorway. 

 

The mantra repeats in my head over and over again -  _ don’t look at her legs, don’t look at her legs _ \- but I fail and when my eyes finally do slide up to meet hers she’s doing the same to me, her gaze creeping over my body and ending back matched up with mine. 

 

It’s another drawn out second before she slowly closes the door between us, the air in my lungs coming out of me in a whoosh and leaving me lightheaded as I crawl onto the bed alone, my skin on fire from the flare between us. 

 

Tonight is going to be a challenge, I know that now. There’s no way to deny that there’s something going on between us, something more than us just being partners in the field. No, everything that’s happening with us is on top of our investigation, is beyond solving this case. 

 

With still a couple days on this trip ahead of us, I turn onto my side and face the window, determined to keep it together until we’re home and - hopefully - closing this case. 

 

* * *

 

I wake up with Katniss talking to me, her legs tangled up in mine as her palm rests on my cheek. Her thumb is sliding across my brow soothingly as she coaxes me back into the waking world and the confusion rolls through me and across my face until she smiles softly. 

 

“You were having a bad dream,” she whispers as her hand stills its movements. 

 

“Sorry - I didn’t mean to,” I offer, my voice thick with sleep. 

 

“Why are you apologizing? You can’t control your dreams, Peeta,” she counters with a look. She isn’t pulling away and it helps to shake the misery that usually courses through me after my nightmares. It’s so unlike Jo that it gives me pause when I realize that we probably shouldn’t be lying here like this - we’re partners, not lovers - and this was bound to break rules across the book. But I shrug it off because it feels good and because it’s helping me, grounding me, to reality after another night of frazzled dreams. 

 

“I woke you up,” I sigh and she actually laughs, a bark that has her closing her eyes and scooting closer. 

 

“I told you I don’t sleep much,” she says and pauses, the recognition that she had wrapped herself up in me like this while being awake being laid bare before us. “What do you dream about?” 

 

The subject change catches me off guard and I cringe - I don’t really want to talk about it but we’ve shared so much already, maybe it’s time I share this with her. 

 

“Before you came on board I was working on a case out of Victoria. It was impossible from the start - a kid who’d gone missing after school in one of those classic ‘didn’t make it home from the school bus’ scenarios. We found the guy after a week of looking but it was too late. He’d killed her and hung himself after. I was with the team that found her…” I shift in the bed and pull away slightly, the images coming back from my nightmares in a thick fog. 

 

“Peeta,” Katniss calls to me again, her arm coming to wrap around my waist and moving herself closer. 

 

“I couldn’t save her,” I whisper tightly, my eyes stinging behind closed lids. 

 

“But you tried. And you keep trying. That’s admirable.” I nod but keep my lips shut, my words choked in my lungs as she sighs and tucks her head into my chest. “You were right when you said I ran away earlier. I did. I’m not ashamed of that, just my reasons were different. I don’t think Rue ran away though, not this time. She always came back before. Why would she stay gone this time?”

 

My brain is slow to switch gears but it helps me recover from my own thoughts, bringing me back to the present and the case before us. I try not to focus on the fact that I’m having this conversation with my partner in bed, wrapped up in each others’ arms as though it’s where we’ve always been. 

 

“I don’t know, Katniss. Maybe she just got tired of living the same life on repeat,” I offer quietly, exhaustion running through me as my chin brushes against the crown of her head. 

 

When she moves back, her eyes catching mine in the low light, I’m startled by the intensity there and the spark from earlier flares between us once more. I’m certain she can feel the pulse beneath my skin pick up, her own breathing hitching as her tongue wets her lips. I can feel my body betraying me and I close my eyes as my lips capture hers, the moment over in a flash that leaves me burned and wanting more. 

 

The room is silent, less our heavy breaths, as we look at each other from our pillows. My body is screaming at me to drag her to me, to run my hands over every stretch of skin, but my brain is holding me still and reminding me that this isn’t the time. That she shouldn’t be the girl I wrap myself up in. 

 

Katniss is my  _ partner _ . I should respect that. I should know better. 

 

“Peeta,” she says as I close my eyes, her hand coming to wrap around mine. Opening them again I can see the inward battle raging within her too, mirroring mine and causing the corners of her lips to turn down. 

 

It was just a kiss. One kiss. I could forget this happened and move past it. I knew I could. 

 

“Let’s just go back to sleep. Pretend that didn’t happen,” I mumble after another drawn out moment, my legs disentangling from hers and my hand squeezing back before letting go. Across from me she closes her eyes tightly and chews her lip, her hand sliding out to catch mine once more.

 

“I don’t - “ Her eyes snap open and the grey rims are intense as she reaches out and drags my head towards her, mouths meeting in a hasty kiss that deepens quickly and leaves me breathless again. “Let’s not pretend. But I do agree we should get some sleep since we have nearly nine hours of driving tomorrow.” 

 

Words fail me as she tucks her nose into my collar, her breaths light on my chest while my hands grapple across her spine. The contact, however risky it may be for our working relationship, soothes the ache in my soul from being alone for so long and I revel in it more than I should. 

 

Waking up the next day I’m surprised to find myself alone in the bed, my arms spread out and reaching for a body that isn’t there. Part of me thinks that maybe it was a dream, but the other part of me can still taste her on my lips and I know it wasn’t all in my head. 

 

I get up and head for the shower to workout my morning frustration, thankful for the fact that at least Katniss isn’t here to see the evidence of what the memory of her does to me. Afterwards, as I’m pulling on my boots, Katniss returns to the room with coffee and bagels in hand. 

 

“Ready to hit the road, sleeping beauty?” She adds brightly, setting down the food on the side table before standing in front of the expansive windows. The view from where I sit on the edge of the bed is breathtaking - and I’m not only talking about the mountain range on the distance. 

 

“Almost. Did you get any sleep last night?” I question as I grab at the breakfast she’s brought. 

 

“Some. Enough. I went for an early run and did some thinking while I was out. Do you think we’ll get into town early enough to talk to him today?” 

 

“Doubt it. It’s a long drive,” I say in between sips of my coffee. 

 

She nods at that and soon we’re piling back into the car and heading down the highway, comfortable quiet surrounding us as she focuses in on the case paperwork. Every so often she’ll prod me with new questions, angles on how we’ll approach the next two suspects. At the mention of her going alone to talk to Marvel, the suspect in Kamloops, I nearly slam on the breaks as my head swivels towards her. 

 

“Not a fucking chance, Everdeen,” I growl, reverting to the use of her surname that now sounds foreign to me. The look she shoots over her shoulder is coupled with a shrug, her fingers paging through the paper and filling the columns with notes. 

 

“His social media history is pretty clear about the fact that he hates people like me. I figure maybe I could talk to him first, get something honest out of him and we could go from there,” she pauses and turns towards me, gaze intense. 

 

“Why can’t we just approach him like we did the last two?” My mind is spinning with the reasons she’s throwing out this risky idea, debating whether she’s onto something that she isn’t telling me. 

 

“We both know this one is different than the others. The last two we had to check out, but Marvel, there’s so many more markers on him than the others. He’s got hate spread throughout his public sphere and he lives alone… Tell me you see this the same way?” 

 

“I do, but going it alone, that’s not an option,” I hiss as my hands slip against the steering wheel, anxious sweat coating my palms at the thought. 

 

“Fine. Heard. But I think we need to come up with a better plan than just showing up at his place,” she counters and I nod, conceding her point. 

 

“Let’s swing past his place tonight, check it out, then we’ll work on a plan for the morning. Alright?” I press until she nods her acceptance and returns her focus to the papers in her lap. 

 

* * *

 

We arrive into Kamloops later than we hoped and the drive by Marvel’s building is useless, the lights on the entire street dark as the night grows late. Katniss tries but fails to hide her disappointment, picking at the food on her plate that we order into the room once we’ve settled in the hotel. 

 

“We’ll track him down tomorrow, Katniss,” I say when she still hasn’t come out of her mood, moving about the room quietly before settling on her bed. 

 

“I know. I think I’m going to try to get some real sleep tonight. Catch up, you know?” She replies quietly. I watch as she pulls the covers up to her chin, a shadow passing over her features and reminding me that her demons are alive and well and that maybe this case is hitting home more than I realized. 

 

“Katniss,” I start, wanting to give her something, anything, to ease her mind, but nothing comes to me and her quiet look of resolve leaves my thoughts tangled up, useless and messy. “Sleep well,” I say on an exhale before turning on the TV subtitles so she can get the rest she needs. 

 

* * *

 

I wake up to the sound of the elevator beeping in the hallway, my body slow to sit up and realize the alarm never went off. It’s then I notice that Katniss isn’t in her bed, nor anywhere else in the room, and the ominous feeling starts to grow in my gut. Looking to the table where we’d laid our gear the night before, it’s not hard to see that her belt and gun are missing, her uniform shirt no longer hanging from the hanger over the doorway. Swearing under my breath I don’t bother to shower before pulling on my uniform and boots, texting Katniss’ cell repeatedly as I clear out the hotel room. When she doesn’t bother to reply I start to call her - over and over again until she starts to send my calls straight to voicemail. 

 

Thankfully, the car is still in the parking lot when I get there, sliding into the front seat and sticking the keys in the ignition. My hands make quick work of slipping the phone into navigation mode, the ‘Find My Phone’ function coming in handy as I login to Katniss’ account and narrow down her location. 

 

I’m not surprised when I see that she’s already at Marvel’s workplace, a small community bank in the center of town. Squealing the wheels of the car in my haste, I head out of the lot and blow through two lights to get there, parking haphazardly on the side of the road and stumbling through the front doors to the bank. Katniss is nowhere to be seen but the place is full of tiny offices off the side of the lobby, all equipped with privacy glass. 

 

“I’m looking for Chris Marvel - is he working today?” I ask the first teller I see, her eyes moving between my uniform and my face before her expression drops. 

 

“He went to meet a client for lunch. Can I help you?” I shake my head and turn away, checking the app on my phone again. The dot tells me she’s still around here but I don’t see her anywhere and my heart is starting to race in my chest. 

 

“Do you know where he went? If he had anyone with him?” 

 

“No sir. Just said he was going out and he’d be back in an hour. Is something wrong?” Her voice fades away as I step back out into the street, looking around at the restaurants nearby. Katniss would want to meet him somewhere he’d be comfortable being himself, somewhere his inner asshole could come out. 

 

“Jesus, Katniss,” I grumble as I head towards the rundown bar at the end of the street. I’m nearly at the entrance when an arm drags me into an alley and up against the wall, a hand sliding over my mouth. 

 

“Shh,” she hisses, her eyes alight. “It’s him, Peeta.” 

 

I let out a breath as she releases me, my eyes dropping down to notice that she’s not in uniform but is dressed as though she were younger, still living on the poverty line. Frowning, I run my hand up to her cheek and over her brow, stilling her. 

 

“Katniss, this isn’t the way we do this,” I murmur as she steps back, eyes flying to the back door of the bar. 

 

“I haven’t done anything off book. I had a conversation at a bar, that’s it. But we need to see where he goes next. He’s going to lead us to her,” she adds absently, stepping closer to the edge of the sidewalk and peaking around the edge of the building. 

 

“You did it without me. You’ve left your partner out of the loop and if he is really the guy - “

 

“He is.” 

 

“If he  _ is _ , then this was fucking dangerous. You can’t just do this!” I growl and reach for her shoulders, shaking her until her gaze slides back to me. “I was worried about you. What if he took you too?” 

 

“That would never happen, Peeta. I know how to take care of myself now. But we do need to follow him. He’s going to lead us to Rue, I know it,” her eyes are clear as she says it and it’s the first time I haven’t thought she was being manic in her behaviour. It was the first time I knew this wasn’t just a half-baked idea that she was winging - she had a plan. 

 

“I’ve parked the car up the road. Let’s wait there,” I sigh and lead her back up the road at a quickened pace, ducking into the vehicle to watch the front of the bar. “What do you know now that’s convinced you?” 

 

Shifting in her seat, she angles her head until she can see a clear line to the bar. “He approached me on his smoke break and I made up a story about how I needed to get back up to Prince George. He offered to buy me lunch and drive me, said he was up there almost every weekend anyways to go hiking or something. I told him I would love to catch a lift as soon as possible and when I asked when he was leaving he said this afternoon but he had to stop and get his car first. I watched from the bathroom door as he slipped something in my drink…” 

 

“Okay. Okay. You just ghosted on him then?” I try and rub my eyes with my hands, watching as she keeps her gaze trained forward. 

 

“I didn’t know quite what to do after that,” she admits, finally looking at me. “Look, I know it was stupid but - “

 

“Katniss - “ 

 

“No, hear me out - “

 

“Katniss - Look!” I shout and motion towards the bar where Marvel is stepping into the street, his crisp suit coat bright in the sunlight. The adrenaline bursts through me when Katniss freezes in her seat, her sight locked on him. “I’m going to follow him on foot. He hasn’t seen me yet.” 

 

I’m out of the car in a snap, my jacket zipped up and my pace twenty feet behind him as he rounds the corner away from the bank. He doesn’t even bother to look around him, walking at a blistering pace until he winds up at a storage facility a few blocks away, the kind with orange sliding doors and faux-house finishings. I join him in the lobby, listening as he explains to the man behind the desk that he’s lost his keys to his locker. It doesn’t take much for the man to give in, walking him out the front doors and down the lines of storage lockers until they’re sliding open a car park. 

 

I duck my head back behind the wall as the attendant walks past me, seemingly unaware of everything around him. From where I stand I watch as Marvel pulls his car out of the garage and speeds off towards the front gate of the facility, dust filling the air around me. 

 

I make it to the sidewalk out front, just as Katniss pulls in and swings open the door towards me. “He’s got his car,” I shout as I slide in beside her. 

 

“I know, I saw,” she replies before stomping her foot on the gas and speeding off after him. We’re a block behind him when he pulls into a driveway of a nondescript house, the outside well kept but the windows covered with tinfoil that sets my nerves on edge. “My gun is in the trunk,” Katniss says after putting the car in park, eyes focused on the door to the house. 

 

“We’re going to do this by the book, Katniss, okay?” I insist as she chews on her thumb distractedly. “Get your badge and jacket out of your bag and we’ll do this properly, otherwise anything we need to use in court will be washed.” 

 

Nodding, she steps out of the driver’s seat and heads to the trunk, grabbing her things and sucking in air to calm herself down. I watch from the side of the car as she clips her belt around her hips and looks to me, eyes determined. “Let’s fucking find Rue,” she states before leading the way to Marvel’s front door. 

 

We knock once, twice, and wait for him to answer. He doesn’t disappoint, his tie askew and his white shirt stained near the waist as he keeps the door half-closed. “Chris Marvel?” I question, hands on my hips as Katniss shifts beside me. 

 

“Who’s asking?” I flash my badge and when he moves to slam the door in our faces I shove my boot in the frame and force myself inside. All of my training comes to a head as my shoulder pushes the door open until I’m falling forward, Marvel having abandoned the attempt at closing us out. 

 

Katniss is after him like a shot, jumping past me and tackling him down to the ground in a mess of limbs in the hallway. Back on my feet, I stand frozen for a second before I see the elbow coming for her temple, knocking her into submission as Marvel rolls them until he’s kneeling over her, his hands wrapped around her neck. 

 

I move before I think, tackling him off of her as the blood burns inside of me. He’s forced onto his face as I rip his arm back to cuff him, shouting at him to shut up when really all I want to do is kill him for laying his hands on her. When he’s finally subdued, arms held behind him and locked to the banister, I crawl back to where Katniss is starting to come to, groaning at his feet. 

 

“Katniss.” It slips out of me like a moan, my hands sliding across her face as she fights back tears with fear behind her eyes. 

 

“I’m alright,” she croaks and rolls to her side. “Go find her, she’s here somewhere.” 

 

I’m hesitant to leave her here but she pushes me away, her body slowly getting to its knees as I head up the staircase. Gun drawn, I search room by room, each space tidy and unlived in with the furniture barely assembled. 

 

After completing clearance on the upstairs level I head down to the basement and stumble on the slick stairway, my body bumping down each step as my feet give out from under me.  _ I hurt _ , is all I’m sure of as my leg twists and a bone snaps. My vision blurs with sharp, blinding pain as the cold concrete creeps into my body while I lay for a moment in stunned agony. 

 

Dizzy, breathless, I look around me at the dank basement walls, the smell of iron burning my senses until I see the figure in the corner, curled in on itself. 

 

“Rue? Ruth Harrows?” It comes out of me as a gasp, my hands desperately trying to pull my broken frame across the floor and to her side. 

 

She’s cold to the touch and I know we’re too late, too slow to save her. 


	9. Eight

I wake up in the hospital, dazed and empty, to find my leg with careful pins running into the skin and a stabilizing device surrounding me. Katniss is in the chair beside my bed, curled up in a ball with her hair covering her face. 

 

The house of horrors comes back to me in a wash of misery, Rue’s twisted body in my mind’s eye as the pain cascades through me. Something escapes from within me and Katniss is roused from her sleep, eyes meeting mine as my vision clouds with tears. 

 

“We were too late,” I whisper, watching as she nods in return. Victoria comes crashing back and the tears fall into my hairline, the reminder that I was never good enough resurfacing and dragging me under. 

 

“She was gone for a long time,” Katniss confirms as she comes to my bedside, her fingers brushing mine. “We didn’t force his hand. She was already gone.”

 

It doesn’t make me feel better, but the knowledge doesn’t make me feel worse, either. I just feel numb, like I’d let her down by not pursuing this case sooner.

 

“How’s your pain?” She asks as she runs a hand across my forehead, lingering on my brow. 

 

“I don’t - I feel…” It doesn’t come out in words and she’s quick to find the drug button and bring it to my grip. 

 

“They said you could press this as you needed it,” she says with a smile through her own tears, her breathing heavy with the weight of everything that’s happened. 

 

“I’m sorry I didn’t do more.” It breaks out of me and Katniss closes her eyes, her lips pressing into mine as my chest constricts. 

 

“Don’t carry this with you. You didn’t do this to her, Peeta.” 

 

I try to hear her, but the roar in my ears is too loud and the hurt of it all drags me under once again. 

 

* * *

 

I’m released from the hospital after almost a month, the drive back to Prince George from Kamloops quiet as Katniss takes me and my car back home in the last leg of our journey. 

 

Though she’d had to return to work and close the case while I remained in Kamloops, she’d come down nearly every weekend to keep me company as I worked through early surgeries and the first few rounds of rehab. 

 

It was during one of these weekends that Katniss had shared the biggest turn in the case that neither of us had expected. 

 

“There was a picture on his fridge,” she started, sitting back in her chair and watching me from her perch. My expression urges her on, my hands setting down my book. “It was of Marvel and my stepfather and this man I remember seeing before I left home. They were smiling and holding a fucking bowling trophy… I asked your old partner Finnick Odair to look into it.” 

 

“What did he find?” I ask when she pauses, looking out the window. 

 

“They think my stepfather was involved with Rue’s disappearance. That they worked together to transplant girls into the cities and run them and if they didn’t cooperate they finished them off. Odair thinks it goes back years… That maybe Prim was caught up in it,” she sobs as she finishes, though her tears stay unshed when she turns back to me. “Odair is going today to arrest the third man from the photo, a banker named fucking Coriolanus Snow who works out of Vancouver.” 

 

I let the information wash over me for a moment, the news so big that it takes a second to process. But when it does there’s only one thing I want to do and it’s to lessen her pain. 

 

“Katniss, come here,” I request gently, reaching my hand out towards her. She doesn’t hesitate before coming to my bedside and wrapping her fingers in mine. I scoot to the edge of my bed and tug her up beside me until we’re curled together, noses touching in the quiet of the hospital room. 

 

Since that weekend we’ve crossed a bridge that I don’t see us coming back from, our kissing no longer chaste and in the dead of night but in broad daylight and used for more than just comfort between us. Neither Katniss nor I can rationalize denying ourselves what is so clearly happening between us and we tell Abernathy as much one afternoon when he walks into my hospital room with a half-wilted floral arrangement, the two of us reading together on my narrow bed. 

 

“Does this mean I need to find new partners for you both?” He grumbles after collapsing into a chair near the window. 

 

“Well, seeing as I likely won’t be returning to active duty for a long while, you’d have to do it anyways,” I offer with a small smile, my fingers absently brushing across Katniss’ collar. 

 

“Goddammit, Mellark. You were one of my better guys and now you’ve gone and buggered up your leg and worse, fraternized with your partner…” He huffs and runs his hand through his wiry hair. “I’m going to have to bring in another new person and you know how much I hate new people,” he groans as Katniss pouts, interjecting with her own protest. “Not you, Everdeen. You’re alright.” 

 

“Thanks Abernathy, I’ll take that as high compliment from you,” she replies with a sharp look and a soft laugh. 

 

Arriving back into Prince George Katniss doesn’t bother to stop at my apartment, instead pulling into her driveway and turning to look at me as she shuts off the car. 

 

“This isn’t my place,” I say with a small smile, watching her as she twists her hands in her lap. 

 

“I know. I made the executive decision to bring some of your things here for when you were discharged,” she pauses and looks out the front window, exhaling quickly. “I thought maybe you could stay with me until you’re back on your feet. If that was okay with you?” 

 

“Katniss,” I sigh and rub my leg forcefully, my chest tight. 

 

“We can take it all back. I can take it back to your place, you don’t have to say yes - god, it was presumptive of me and - “

 

“Katniss, stop.” I grab at her hand and pull it into my lap, urging her to look at me. When she does, the uncertainty behind her eyes crackles through me. “Thank you.” 

 

It settles between us and neither of us say a thing until she smiles, bright and blinding and everything to draw me forward until I’m wrapped up in her, body and soul. 


	10. Epilogue

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Katniss asks from her place on our bed, watching as I button up my uniform shirt. 

 

It’s my first day heading back to work and I’m stuck riding a desk and processing paperwork while Katniss has the day off, our roles reversed. I’d say I was excited to get back to it, but not having her by my side is depressing at best. She was the partner I felt had my back, the one who would keep me honest and force me to be my best self, but now she was working with another girl fresh out of the academy named Madge Undersee. 

 

I think Abernathy was worried there would be ripples with another male partner, despite the fact that that was foolish. Us finding each other was one in a million, I was sure of it, and no partner of hers would ever make me doubt her certainty in us. 

 

“Yes, I’m sure,” I reply lightly and lean down to capture her lips with mine. I barely escape before her hands in my collar are pulling me down and trying to deepen the kiss, tempting me to fall back into the sheets with her. “Sorry, love, I have to go.” 

 

“Boo, I liked you being here,” she whines and releases me with a huff. 

 

“I’ll be back tonight and then you can have me, okay?” I whisper and grin conspiratorially at her, conveying more than an innocent thought to bring out her smile. 

 

“Fine. But take care of yourself, okay?” Her hand ghosts across my cheek as her statement is loaded with more than just first day back jitters. She’s worried I won’t be able to bounce back from my injury and be satisfied with my change in job despite the fact that I’ve spent the last two months re-balancing my life and finding new ways to be happy. Particularly when it comes to her. 

 

“I will. See you,” I say and part with a kiss, heading out the door and to the station with a new found excitement. 

 

I’m surprised when I get there to see Jo waiting in the lobby, leaning against the front desk and perking up when I hobble through the doorway. 

 

“Mellark, just who I was looking for,” she greets, coming towards me and wrapping me up in an uncharacteristic hug. “I heard you found our girl,” Jo adds as she pulls away. 

 

“I’m sorry I didn’t find her sooner,” I reply and clamp down the anxiety that bubbles within me. I’ve already beaten myself up so much about this, I didn’t need Jo to do it too. 

 

“You can’t hold yourself responsible for this. She got in that car and while what happened wasn’t her fault, you can’t take away someone’s choices,” she pauses and hands me a pink notebook, its edges frayed and cover bent. “This was Rue’s diary. She wanted to get away from her family and if that man hadn’t picked her up you would have been right to think she just ran away.” 

 

“Jo, I never wanted to be right,” I mumble and push the diary back towards her. 

 

“I know. But I want you to have this so you can remember that there is so much more going on in the lives that we work for. Maybe it will give you peace. Not just for Rue, but for Caroline in Victoria too.” 

 

Her words make my chest ache as I hold the book in my hand, the thoughts and hopes of Ruth Harrows now left for me to steward. With the closure of this case it seems as though Jo and I have reached a careful understanding, one that has repaired the bad blood between us. When I look up and meet her eyes after a moment of silence I see not just sadness but a steady respect targeted towards me and it makes me sure of one thing going forward - this is what I’m meant to do. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many many thanks to the organizers of Fandom Trumps Hate 2018 for another amazing year of contributions. And an EXCEPTIONAL thank you to Shannon17 who bid and requested a story from me that gave me carte blanche to write something I felt passionately about. I hope you enjoyed and would love to hear your thoughts, even if they're short and sweet. Hopefully I've done the characters justice and captured things with some semblance of success, and if not, shhhhhhhh.


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